


Choking

by ParodiaTheSilent



Category: Naruto
Genre: Dissociation, Fear, Friendship, Gen, It Gets Worse, Original Character as a Canon Character, it starts out fine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-08-07 15:44:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16411328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParodiaTheSilent/pseuds/ParodiaTheSilent
Summary: When a man wakes up and finds himself in the body of Sasuke Uchiha, his world ends.He knows the story— knows just how much he'll suffer— and he doesn't like it.He hates it.But more than anything, he's terrified.





	1. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A break from my usual "OC reborn as an OC".
> 
> Disclaimer: Naruto is the intellectual property of Masashi Kishimoto. I guess

 

The first time he opens his eyes and  _truly_  sees is two years after his birth.

He's balanced on the hip of a woman he knows instinctively to be his mother (not _his_  mother who has been forgotten by all but himself) and pulls emptily at her silky black hair.

She smiles down at him as she gently removes his hand from her hair. He doesn't particularly mind and is more focused on how familiar she seems. Eventually, however, his train of thought is interrupted when she boops him on the nose.

(Boop is an adorable word that makes him feel nostalgic and wistful at the same time.)

He smiles and laughter bubbles from his mouth, unbidden as his mother whispers to him words he only hears peripherally. The incessant feeling of recognition still squirms uneasily through his head, but he ignores it in favor of stroking his mother's hair. It's soft. Comforting.

(It's unfamiliar but not unpleasant.)

His mother's smile grows as she continues to walk, all the while entertaining him with small comments on the way to wherever it is they're going. He has an inkling of a feeling that this isn't the way things should be but he ignores it and keeps his eyes trained on his mother's breathtaking smile.

She eventually stops her chattering but shows an equal amount of affection without speaking and he relaxes.

For a moment, he wants to understand that but the thought is washed away in a torrent of breathless love and joy.

As focused as he is on his mother and her affectionate attention, he is also distinctly aware of the moment they enter a decidedly different district of town. They pass through gates (two men standing guard) and walk among many homes. They all share a similar style but he is only aware of that peripherally.

As focused as he is on his mother's affectionate and distracting doting, he notices that each and every person within shares very similar features. The thought crosses his mind that this 'compound' must belong to a really large family. That makes perfect sense so his wariness is ignored.

When he and his mother enter the largest home, they are given a sideways greeting by a stern-faced man. Though, while the man's face is stern and creased by stress, the two-year-old can see a softness (locked away and deeply hidden) in those pitch black eyes. Recognition flits through his mind once again but it's irrelevant.

Another younger male comes from deeper inside the house and his love is written clearly on his face compared to the father. If the boy's face wasn't marred by two heavy creases beneath his eyes, then the toddler would've lived the smallest bit longer in ignorance.

As it is, with his attention drawn away from his mother ( _She'll die_ ) and towards the face of his brother ( _He'll kill them_ ) he's panicking.

When his father turns his back and the wretched  _uchiwa_  is exposed, he's on the verge of tears.

The first time he opens his eyes—

(The first time wakes up—)

—and  _truly_  sees—

(—and  _truly_  remembers—)

—is two years after his (re)birth.

Then all is nothing and the world goes black.


	2. Temper

He tries his very best to hide beneath the guise of a child and he struggles because the world is a distorted mess and nothing is making sense anymore.

(The feeling is a familiar one and he hates it.)

It's been hours or days or  _weeks_  since that first fateful awakening and he can't help feeling  _suffocated_. Like all eyes are always on him and he  _knows_  he's going to slip up. The Uchiha— he  _can't_ think of them as his family— are almost disturbingly attentive. It is  _Itachi's_  attention that disturbs him the most but he knows better to show that and simply stares up at him with curious eyes when approached by the elder Uchiha.

He's resigned himself to mostly staying silent, answering questions only when absolutely necessary because one day he'll let something slip otherwise. He almost regrets the lengths he went through to learn other languages aside from English because if he hadn't, he could at least use his lack of knowledge in Japanese as an excuse not to speak.

He mourns. For himself, for the people he once knew, and for the people who will die at the hands of  _his_  brother.

His solemn expression would be more at home in the Hyūga clan's compound.

It takes before he truly notices the half-concerned gazes that Uchiha Fugaku throws his way on occasion, whenever he says something too intelligent, too deliberate. When Sasuke—  _dear God, the name itself almost brings him to tears_ — finally does notice, he sees a modicum of fear hidden within those eyes as well. Despite everything, Fugaku is far easier to read than he believes.

It's clear that he doesn't want another Itachi— another son that's too smart and too talented for his own good. Dangerous.

(The truth is so much worse, isn't it?)

Despite himself, he doesn't wish to cause undue pain to Fugaku. Regardless of whether or not the Uchiha head had truly wished the best for his clan, he didn't deserve to be unloved by his own sons and looked at with such cold eyes.

The flesh of Uchiha Sasuke feels as if it's choking the life out of him— strangling his mind and keeping him so heavily chained— but it's inconsequential. Despite his fear and his sorrow, he will wear a thousand masks as he has done in the past. He will become a living matryoshka and a snake infinitely shedding skins.

He would not trouble the hearts of the Uchiha with the weight of his own despair.

(It is a selfish desire that drives him to don these masks. They are  _everything_.)

It takes him far too long to come to this conclusion— he is four years old. He smiles and laughs and begs for attention the same as any child would. He falls into this perfectly suited role easily and the Uchiha's home becomes lighter as he does. He revels in the doting of Uchiha Mikoto and makes a point of not pestering Itachi or Fugaku any more than necessary.

(But this is all a facade. He can't afford to forget that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will probably be the last time I post such a short chapter. Well, unless I decide that five-hundred-word chapters are sufficient but... I don't really like that. These first two chapters weren't much story-wise. More along the lines of intro stuff. This should be it though; the story should start next chapter. I hope.
> 
> Also, I've finally managed to hop back onto Re-Re-Re. It'll take probably the rest of this month, but I will have another chapter out soon enough.
> 
> See ya~


	3. Revere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for three(?) months of inactivity, I did this as fast as I could manage.
> 
> Disclaimer: Hey! Vsauce Michael here. I don't own Naruto... or do I? (I don't)

Itachi watches silently as his brother runs back and forth between two trees in the yard behind their home.

He cannot say he is  _impressed_ at the speed with which his brother moves— for  _that_  would imply a sort of novelty to the speed that just isn't there— but he finds the speed  _remarkable_  for a child of Sasuke's age. In addition to this is the fluidity of movement. Itachi watches as his brother jogs, not with the standard flailing sprint of any other four year old, but with balanced and lengthy strides that maximize distance covered while maintaining the stamina that would be wasted with shorter, quicker steps.

It's obvious that Sasuke knows better than to go at it with everything he has; Itachi can see it in the way he moves.

Itachi takes a step back and opens the amoda before sliding it closed once more, making sure the sound captures Sasuke's attention.

Sasuke turns his head only momentarily and before he can make even a sound of acknowledgment, his right foot catches the heel of his left and his face meets the dirt.

An amused chuff of laughter escapes Itachi but his expression smoothes over quickly as he makes his way to his fallen brother.

Sasuke, he thinks, is too good for this world. Too pure, too forgiving,  _too full of life._  Itachi knows that one day the world will swallow that light whole. That the very family he was born to may well be the first step in the process.

(But this is his precious otouto.  _He_ is the reason Itachi fights. For a world where that kindness can go unpunished. Where children won't be robbed of their  _souls_  before they lose their lives.)

Still, Itachi cherishes the love in Sasuke's eyes as he helps his brother to his feet. He bears a smile as Sasuke tells him what he's missed while on his last mission.

Half-heartedly, Itachi questions Sasuke about how hard he's pushing himself, partly out of curiosity and partly because he  _worries_.

(His father has placed burdens upon his own shoulder's and he will not allow the same to happen to Sasuke.)

"Shisui-san said if I trained hard enough I might be faster than him one day!"

That brings a smile— more genuine than those before it— to Itachi's face, small though it is, and he brings two fingers up to tap his brother's forehead.

"I'm sure you'll surpass him, otouto."

The grin that Sasuke gives him is comparable to Shisui's already and he watches as his little brother sets back to running, this time a contentedness in the boy's expression.

(Already he's forgotten the prowess and the disturbing amount of thought he'd seen his brother put into this simple training.)

Itachi steps inside their house, his heart lighter than it had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh~ Two lines of dialogue!
> 
> Short chapters are the thing I guess.
> 
> Oh! Sometime in the future, there will be a chapter titled "Curse". Beware of it; this is your only warning.


	4. Exalt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again~
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Done. (Success?)

Mikoto takes a sip of tea and almost chokes on it in the next moment when she feels two arms fall over her shoulders. It is only because of this fact— and the fact she recognizes those tiny,  _tiny_  limbs— that she keeps from immediately rounding on her would-be attacker, Sharingan blazing after years of underuse.

It is night— deep and dark and  _deeper_  into the night than is healthy— and she is sipping tea because she cannot sleep. Mikoto feels the weight of her youngest son acutely as he leans into her, can feel his heartbeat steadily slowing until it matches the steady pace of her own. She lets Sasuke nuzzle into the crook of her neck for as long as is needed.

But she doesn't move. Not yet.

She waits until the tightness of muscles fades. She waits until she can no longer feel the minuscule tremors that occasionally wrack his body. When that stops, Mikoto waits longer. A breath, and then a breath longer and  _still_ she does not speak.

In these four years she has been raising Sasuke, she has learned  _so much_.

Sasuke, she has learned, takes to the quiet far better than most children his age. Whenever he is in a particular mood, he finds her. He doesn't ask for help or speak about what bothers him. He waits and eventually is better for it.

He revels in her presence simply because Mikoto is his mother and that sort of unconditional love is simply beautiful.

(She does not want to say she is relieved that he doesn't require consoling because a part of her  _yearns_  to know his heart.)

But this time is different. In the four years she's raised her baby boy, he has rarely sought physical comfort. He has  _never_ come to her trembling, has never clung to her so desperately.

So Mikoto waits until he stills completely before she reaches around and drags him into her lap. He sits in silence only momentarily but he answers her question before she can ask it.

"I had a nightmare, okaa-san."

Mikoto hums in lieu of responding and runs her right hand through Sasuke's hair. She waits because she knows there is a bit more to it than that.

"Everyone was dead, okaa-san."

The statement is delivered with the same matter-of-fact tone as the first but Mikoto does not stop running her fingers through his hair. Somehow—  _somehow_ — she gleans that he does not mean  _everybody_  but rather the clan.

 _Their_ clan. Their  _family_.

She does not ask him what brought this dream about because she can tell he is confused and such questions only serve to muddle the waters further. She only continues to run her slender fingers through his hair and he lets her, his fingers running through her own inky black tresses.

She offers him the last of her tea, cold though it is, and he accepts it. He drinks it quickly and soon they are absorbed in each other once again.

(She knows that the youngest of her sons won't bother Itachi or Fugaku about this. And she also knows that— though they  _do_  care— they will not ask. Because Sasuke will never ask for more than he is given and they will never give what is not requested. Even this momentary  _wasei-eigo_ is more than her precious son would ask of anyone.)

They remain this way until the sun rises and when it does Mikoto finds that she is not particularly excited to face this day. She looks down at Sasuke finds that he looks exceptionally tired— and she certainly feels the same way— and lifts him easily.

It is only when carries Sasuke to his bed and lays him down that she realizes they are alone in their home, Itachi on another mission and Fugaku simply busy—  _always_  busy but it is a thing to which she is accustomed.

Later, she will say that she had fallen to her exhaustion at that moment but the truth of the instant is that she sees her son looking lonelier is his sleep than she has ever seen him and—

(She had spent all night holding her son so she feels she is forgiven for desiring some rest.)

— she simply falls into bed next to him. She takes him into her arms easily and she feels less... idle.

The silence lasts only another second before Sasuke speaks up, noting a desire to grow his hair as her hair is. She pulls him closer in this brief second and a smile blooms slowly on her lips.

"Of course, Sasu-chan."

When Fugaku returns later that day, the sun moving just past noon, his wife and second son have only just awoken and he watches as they drag their feet lazily across the tatami mats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wasei-eigo is a term that translates to something along the lines of skinship, coined to describe the closeness between mother and child.


	5. Absolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo~
> 
> It is I. Again.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own it~ (Naruto)

Teaching Sasuke, Fugaku thinks, is an experience.

That is not to say that Sasuke is entirely incapable or struggles any more than Fugaku has expected him to. Rather, Sasuke trains with a distinct lack of enthusiasm that Fugaku does not find vexing so much as it is inconvenient.

Technically, that is only a vague and inaccurate summation of how Sasuke goes about training. The boy is plenty enthusiastic but he is also extraordinarily and abnormally wary. So much so that when Fugaku gives instruction, Sasuke will follow them and make no move to take the initiative afterward.

(This makes it so Fugaku does not actually need to tell the boy to  _stop_  but it also means he must constantly give direction.)

They are sitting, legs crossed in a basic Lotus in preparation for what is to be the first of many meditation sessions. Fugaku's spine is ramrod straight and a glance towards Sasuke has his son doing the same.

Chakra is a volatile thing to handle as a rule so Fugaku waits until his youngest son has loosened enough before he begins instructing him. To close his eyes and to reach out for his chakra.

(Out, not  _in_ , because ironically— while chakra is as much a part of one's body as anything else— it is known to feel  _alien_  upon discovery.)

It is seven minutes before Sasuke opens his eyes and speaks.

"I found it, otou-san."

The words are laced with  _something_  but enough of it that Fugaku knows his son is waiting. So he sets Sasuke to practicing further. Practicing until he can find his chakra within an instant. Sasuke nods and closes his eyes and sets back to work, Fugaku watching him all the while.

The sun is brushing the horizon by the time Fugaku decides that his son has reached an acceptable level, almost seven hours spent giving instruction and half-heard advice to his son. It is slow and even for a Genin, it would be considered so, but Sasuke is not a Genin— not even in the Academy— so it is acceptable.

( _More_ than acceptable but the boy cannot be told that, lest he be given a reason to slack off.)

They part with few words beyond the customary well-wishes from Sasuke which Fugaku answers with an acknowledging nod.

It is another two weeks of this training— a week  _too long_  but only because Fugaku is testing and pushing at Sasuke all the while— before Fugaku decides it is enough.

The pair sit before the pond within the Uchiha compound, beneath the early morning sun. There is a certain incredulity that Fugaku observes in his son's eyes even as the boy takes steps to relax himself. Fugaku turns away his gaze and looks over the pond before he speaks.

"Today, you will begin learning our clan's Gōkakyū no Jutsu."

In the moment after the words leave Fugaku's mouth, he hears a sharp intake of breath from Sasuke. He ignores it— mindful of its possible meaning, all the while— before he begins.

Fire is molded in the stomach. Air is molded within your surroundings. Lightning, on the hands, leaping between fingers. Earth uses any connection to the ground; the palms of your hands and the soles of your feet. Water draws from the world.

The knowledge is so basic that Fugaku hardly spends any time on it. It is something that is understood easier with experience rather than lectures and as it is so he begins to teach Sasuke the hand seals for the jutsu.

Sasuke runs through the seals— slowly, sloppily, clumsily— but does not stop until he has completed the sequence once. Fugaku watches as his youngest son nods to himself before trying it again.

Sasuke will be five within the next month and enter the Academy in the coming spring. By Fugaku's prediction, Sasuke will not master the technique until his second year in the academy.

But for now, he teaches his son and he waits. Waits and plans as thing come together and fall apart simultaneously. Dangerously and suddenly.

(But not now. For now, he teaches his son.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't like this chapter.


	6. Scatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Academy starts.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the source material of which this fan work is based. (a.k.a. Naruto)

Sasuke looks about the village with ill-concealed curiosity as he makes his way to the Academy with his brother and mother on either side of him. Truthfully, the village itself is hardly anything to gawk at but as his anxiety grows he finds more and more things to distract himself with as they walk.

(The Academy is where everything will begin. Surely, that is cause for stress.)

He tightens his grip on his mother's hand— an entirely instinctual action that shocks him and he almost pulls his hand away but only  _barely_  stops himself— when the Academy comes into view. Immediately, he feels her eyes on him and he meets her gaze. Her left eyebrow is raised imperiously, her eyes alight with a silent amusement and her lips upturned ever so slightly at the corners, but Sasuke can see the question without her saying a word.

Instead of answering, he turns away and only just manages to keep himself from pouting at her, his face screwing up from the difficulty of it. His mother doesn't offer him any words of encouragement and she laughs at him— he's certain the look on his face must be truly  _hilarious_ — but she squeezes his hand back all the same.

The exchange, quick and subtle though it was, is noticed by Itachi and the genius offers platitudes he obviously does not believe himself, even as they leave his mouth. Still, Sasuke accepts them with a smile, regardless of the futility of the words because the intent is still there and  _that_  provides some measure of comfort.

(His love for Mikoto— lethargic and half-formed as it is— has slowly grown and attached itself to Itachi and despite everything,  _he simply cannot help himself._ )

They step past the gates of the Academy and Sasuke clenches his teeth to keep from gasping at the size of the crowd. While he is a far cry from truly agoraphobic, the thought of being trapped within a crowd of that size stirs old anxiety in his chest and his left hand visibly twitches. Long ago, when his nerves got the best of him, he would've clasped his hands together in prayer as a homage to his mother (his oldest,  _truest_  mother) but now, with his hair missing his shoulders by the narrowest of margins, he finds himself having to keep from idly twirling strands of it around a finger during bouts of timidity.

Rather than attempt to navigate the crowd, Sasuke is promptly hefted onto Itachi's shoulders, the new vantage point allowing for him to see over a good portion of the crowd. More than that, he finds his gaze drawn to the front of the gathered masses.

At the head of it stands Sarutobi Hiruzen and the man looks like anything but a tired old man as he speaks out to the crowd. The Sandaime Hokage voice carries like a war horn and Sasuke can feel the words flowing through him, powerful and bracing. It is only because  _he knows_ , that the Hokage's orations have no hold on him and he is made starkly aware that  _this_  is how people are swayed to the cause— swayed to give their children to an industry of death and subterfuge.

(Sarutobi Hiruzen preaches the Will of Fire, but he is merely the flame's shadow.)

There is a weight that settles into Sasuke's skull— sluggish and dark— as he watches the Hokage speak. It is enough to shock him and he takes a deep, steadying breath. The feeling recedes— slowly, ever so slowly— and he exhales silently, his attention drawn back to the Hokage.

Sasuke watches as the man speaks, awe displayed perfectly on his face as he mimics the childish wonder that would be expected when seeing the leader of their village. He watches and when the crowd finally disperses at the end and he is let down from Itachi's shoulders. His mother hands him his lunch, accompanied by a reassuring smile that he returns in equal measure before waving goodbye to the two of them as he goes to see which class he is to be placed in.

(I do not hate him, I am not angry. I do not hate, I am  _not angry_. I do not  _hate, I do not I do not IdonotIdonot—_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is an interlude.  
> Apologies for how long I took with this. My excuse is that I live in a desert and now that 'winter' is over, the heat has made it difficult to focus.
> 
> Anyway, I'm going to 'rant' now so if you don't want to see that, ignore this.
> 
> I really think I might dislike Itachi. Or rather, I dislike the way that most of this fandom reveres him. I swear that so many of the fics that I've come across are literally on their knees, fellating Itachi under the fucking table.  
> "Oh my God, he's so caring and self-sacrificial; he sacrificed his own family for the sake of the village!"  
> "He's so tragic: he was so torn up by his guilt that he manipulated his brother into killing him so that they both could have closure!"  
> "Even after he was used as a tool and scapegoat by the village, he was still so loyal that he infiltrated an evil organisation so that he could information about them to Konoha!"  
> Etcetera, etcetera, ad infinitum.  
> Itachi's a bitch who decided that the village that would've killed his family with or without his help, was more important than his own goddamned family.  
> And what the fuck was Shisui's problem? Why the hell didn't he fuckin'— _Oh, I don't know_ — go, "Hey Itachi, Danzo just betrayed us and tried to steal my fucking eye, how about we not fuckin' join up with him?"  
> I can't that absurd and self-sacrificial nationalism.


End file.
